


I can feel the heat but I'm not burning

by becka



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s never been desperate before like it is now, in the lead-up to eight fucking months of touring. He wants to have his hands on Harry constantly, and it makes him feel young, reckless, as though he might actually be able to keep up with a hyperactive nineteen year old.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>This is just an excuse for non-AU barebacking porn. Not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can feel the heat but I'm not burning

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [lazy_daze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_daze/profile), without whose company and encouragement this fic would not exist, and [balefully](http://archiveofourown.org/users/balefully/profile) for pointing me at Haim's "Falling" for the title. <3
> 
> I make no claims that this actually happened.

_Are you home yet?_ Nick texts at eight. He’s down the pub, drinking rioja and laughing at other people’s work stories, and it’s a good night, but he’s still just fidgeting at the table, waiting on a nineteen-year-old pop star. There are indulgent smiles all round as he spins his phone between his fingers impatiently, and it’s nice to be out with people who understand and don’t comment, but Nick is still distantly embarrassed on his own behalf. He hasn’t been hung up on anyone like this in recent memory, and they all know it.

When he gets no reply to his first text, he follows it up at half-past. And then every ten minutes thereafter. He’s not terribly concerned about being a pain, since he knows how readily Harry will forgive those things. And it’s not as though he doesn’t like his friends or appreciate their company. It’s just that some nights he wants to see Harry more, especially since he’s leaving on tour in a matter of days and Nick can feel every minute of that time in an anxious buzz up his spine. It’s been so easy, having Harry in London, phoning him up for a cuddle whenever he feels like it, letting Harry spend the night in his bed when he’s exhausted and frowny and barely able to make conversation.

Harry finally texts at half-nine. _On my way to yours_ , it says. Nick shuts off his phone and excuses himself. Hugs all round and a bit of cheerful banter at the door, but he’s barely thinking about it. He’s thinking that he wants to be well settled at home by the time Harry gets there, and he walks quickly up the road, pulling his jacket tight against the cold.

Harry knocks about ten minutes after Nick arrives, and Nick meets him at the door. “You have a key, you idiot,” he says.

“Bit silly using it when you’re here,” Harry replies. He tugs off his beanie and scrubs a hand through his hair.

Nick thinks about waiting and decides he doesn’t want to, drags Harry in by the lapels of his coat, cold wool between his fingers. He kisses Harry’s mouth, slow and deliberate, and Harry surges forward into him, kissing him more deeply. It’s never been desperate before like it is now, in the lead-up to eight fucking months of touring. He wants to have his hands on Harry constantly, and it makes him feel young, reckless, as though he might actually be able to keep up with a hyperactive nineteen year old.

“How was the photo shoot?” Nick says, trying to get a break between kisses. “Were you gorgeous?” He rubs a thumb across Harry’s cheek, scrubbed clean now.

“I’m always gorgeous,” says Harry, nuzzling back in against Nick’s mouth. “Can we go to bed?”

“To sleep or…”

Harry gives him a look like he’s stupid. “We can sleep after you fuck me.”

“Oh, well, as long as you have a clear plan.”

Harry laces his arms around Nick’s waist and pushes forward with his hips. “So clear it may be transparent.”

Nick leaves a trail of Harry’s clothes from the door to his bedroom and nearly trips over Thurston in his haste to get Harry naked. Aimee’s away until Tuesday, and Nick should have gotten him all settled in his crate before Harry got there, and he’s annoyed at his lack of preparedness. “Hold that thought,” he says, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose. And when he comes back from putting Thurston to bed, Harry’s spread out in Nick’s bed totally naked, with two slick fingers worked into his arse.

“I think you misunderstand what ‘hold that thought’ means,” Nick says, watching as Harry opens himself up on long, greedy fingers, pushing down onto them.

“Maybe you misunderstood what ‘fuck me’ means,” Harry replies, slurred and breathless. There’s a flush spreading down his pale chest, and Nick watches his new tattoo move with his hitching breath, open wings stretched across his ribcage. 

Nick pulls off his t-shirt and jumper in one go and starts on the zip of his tight jeans. Harry’s gone still now, his other hand resting on his belly like he desperately wants to make a grab for his hard cock. But he restrains himself. And then Nick’s kneeling between his legs, dragging Harry’s fingers out of his snug hole and replacing them with his own. Harry is so wet inside, like he poured half Nick’s bottle of lube into himself, and Nick thinks he must be too close to need much prep. But when Nick reaches for a condom from the nightstand, Harry grabs for his wrist and says, “Wait.”

“What is it, pet?” Nick asks, stroking Harry’s tensed thigh with his free hand, feeling along the muscle there.

“I thought maybe we could,” Harry says, glancing away. “Just this once. Without a condom? Maybe?”

Nick has to close his eyes for a moment, rocked by the thought of it. The last time he fucked someone bare he must have been, god, Harry’s age, and the one-night stands and casual partners between then and now haven’t made him that trusting or that stupid. Harry makes him both. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asks.

Harry squirms on his fingers. “So much,” he says. “I think about you coming inside me. I want to feel what it’s like.” 

Nick’s been in for regular STI checks, as a responsible adult, and he knows he’s had worse ideas than this. And Harry’s voice, scraped out of him and practically begging, is way too much for him. “You’ve been tested, right, popstar?”

“Of course,” replies Harry. “So’ve you.”

Trusting and stupid, Nick thinks again, but then he slides his fingers out of Harry’s arse, dabs more lube over the length of his cock. “All right?” he says, one last time, and Harry nods and spreads his knees wider so Nick can settle in the gap.

The first press in is heavenly, Harry hot and slick and still so tight around him, and Nick takes a shaky breath at the feel of him, familiar but not the same, the heat of him overwhelming.

“Kiss me?” says Harry, and Nick crowds in, folds Harry nearly in half to get at his panting mouth. He’s so lovely like this, his skinny legs hooking over Nick’s arms as Nick readjusts, his lips puckering lazily against Nick’s. Nick stays in him like that for ages, rocking slowly, kissing Harry with deliberate swipes of his tongue, little bites at Harry’s soft bottom lip.

“Is this what you wanted?” Nick asks, just to hear Harry’s scattered moan, just to feel his little shiver that is almost better than an answer. 

Harry clutches at Nick’s shoulders, and his mouth curls up in a sudden grin. He rocks his hips back, squeezes down tightly on Nick’s cock. “Perfect,” says Harry, looking up through squinted, smiling eyes. Sometimes Nick is terrified of his breathless affection for this stupid boy, the way Harry lights him up inside.

He nuzzles in to kiss Harry’s mouth again, setting a harder rhythm inside him, his cock working deeper with a thick, wet sound. Harry moans, shudders, and his whole body is urging Nick on, open and hot, welcoming Nick’s next thrust. Nick reaches down to touch the rim of Harry’s hole, split apart by his cock, slippery beneath his fingertips. Harry is so wet for him, and Nick has to be pleased with his thoroughness, the way he’d wanted this so much he couldn’t wait for Nick’s hands on him to get started. 

He wants to say something, feels the words sitting on his tongue, but he can’t let them out. It doesn’t mean anything if you tell someone you love him when you’re balls deep in his arse. And as strange as it is, Nick wants to mean it. He strokes at Harry’s stretched hole, fondles the tight weight of his balls, and finally wraps a hand around the base of Harry’s cock. Harry wriggles into Nick’s unmoving palm, and his arsehole goes tighter, sucking at Nick’s stiff cock.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, pet?” Nick says, kissing the corner of Harry’s mouth and giving one stroke up the length of his cock. Harry gives a pleased little moan. “You’re going to come, and then I’m going to fill you right up like the filthy little slut you are.”

“Yeah,” Harry pants out, and that’s practically the closest to dirty talk he ever manages. He’s got this voice made for sex, but actually having him in bed has turned out to be mostly wordless hedonism.

Nick picks up his pace, slams into Harry so his balls smack wetly against the cheeks of Harry’s arse, a little echo of pleasure each time. Harry’s hair has flopped across his forehead, and Harry pushes it back with clumsy fingers, leaving his hand splayed there like some kind of tragic heroine. His cheeks are pink and his chest is slick with sweat, every part of him looking so beautifully, thoroughly fucked. His cock twitches in Nick’s hand, and Nick gives it a few firm strokes, listening to Harry moan his way through his climax. He comes so quickly when Nick’s in him, like a kid, which of course he very nearly is.

“Lovely, lovely child,” sighs Nick, pressing his lips to Harry’s throat. He keeps stroking Harry’s cock, rubbing his thumb over the wet slit, making Harry moan. He’s so sensitive now he’s just come, but Nick knows he likes that little edge of pain to it, the slightest hint of too much. He smears his thumb there, shuts his eyes as Harry tightens down on him, says his name on a desperate little moan. “Nick,” so fucked out that he nearly loses the “k” in his slur. Nick takes his hand off Harry’s cock, which is finally going soft, slides his fingers around his slick, stretched hole. “Want me to do it? Want me to fill you up?” And god, it feels filthy like this, threatening to fuck Harry full of his come, almost unreal as an idea. But Harry’s letting him; more than that, Harry wants him to.

“Wanna feel it,” Harry whispers, dragging his hand down over Nick’s, feeling at himself, at the bare base of Nick’s cock where it enters him. It’s so guilelessly hot, Harry touching himself this way, fingers slipping curiously around the rim of his hole, rubbing against his own sensitive skin, stroking over Nick’s cock. “Don’t stop,” Harry adds, and Nick realizes he’s gone slack-jawed and breathless just watching, staring down at Harry’s long fingers fumbling, accidentally tangling his.

Nick settles in again, deep as he can go, and Harry’s hips give a little jump as he tries to wring more pleasure from his fucked out body. When Nick pulls back, Harry’s hand curls into a fist, clenching in anticipation of the next deep thrust. His dick is already starting to fatten up again, and Nick wonders if he has the stamina (or the restraint) to keep this up until Harry comes a second time, but that’s rare under the best of circumstances, and Nick is already pushing towards the edge, feeling Harry tight and hot around him. “Why don’t you touch your pretty cock for me, Harry?” Nick says, nuzzling at Harry’s mouth. “Show me how much it turns you on that I’m about to cream your arse.”

Harry’s fingers are clumsy, but he does it, trying to be good, trying to do what Nick wants. He wanks himself with a quick, careless motion, and Nick fumbles out the lube, drips some over Harry’s hand to ease the glide, then after a moment slides his hand down between Harry’s legs to slick him there too. Harry will let Nick fuck him until he’s aching, and they both know it, but Nick’s not up for that just now. He presses back in, Harry opening to him easily, making a pleased little noise as Nick holds himself deep, then settles into a slow-building rhythm. His thrusts rock Harry back against the pillows, and Nick’s been close to coming for ages, but the feel of Harry around him now is nearly too much. He licks at Harry’s collarbone, catches one of those infuriating birds between his teeth just to feel Harry tighten on his cock.

“You want to come for me again, love?” Nick asks, nuzzling up to Harry’s ear, biting at the lobe.

Harry shakes his head, juts his chin in a sudden show of stubbornness. “You first,” he says.

Nick shuts his eyes and doesn’t argue. He hitches one of Harry’s skinny legs over his shoulder, nearly folding him in half, and he fucks Harry’s arse the way he needs to, slamming into him and then savoring the slick glide back. Harry lets go of his cock and grabs for his knees, holding himself open and giving Nick the most obscenely glorious view of his stuffed hole, dark pink and clenching on the girth of Nick’s cock.

“Come on,” says Harry, all glazed eyes and swollen lips. Nick groans helplessly and comes, slicking Harry deep inside with his load. He knows Harry can feel it by the way he gasps and lets go of his knees to wriggle back on Nick’s cock, taking him even deeper. Harry’s cock is so hard again that it’s drooling a little trail of precome over his trembling belly, his balls sitting fat and tight below.

Harry makes a startled, protesting noise when Nick pulls out of him, but then Nick bends to suck the swollen head of Harry’s cock into his mouth, presses two fingers back into Harry’s loosened hole, and gets him off like that in a matter of seconds. Harry’s hand slides into Nick’s hair, gripping gently as Nick swallows him down. He’s so wet inside, dripping with Nick’s come, and Nick drags his fingers through the mess of it, rocking his knuckles just inside Harry’s sensitive rim. Nick is tempted to lick it out of him, push his tongue into Harry’s arse and lick him clean, because it’s the filthiest thing he can think to do, and Harry always makes him want to push that way. But he resists, settles for circling his fingers slowly and watching his come ooze out around them, Harry moaning and arching up like he’s still coming, like Nick hasn’t already sucked him dry. Three times is probably an actual physical impossibility, even for a lad of nineteen.

After a moment, Harry’s hand comes down, covering his, and Nick pauses, looks up into Harry’s bleary eyes. But Harry’s not stopping him, just dipping a fingertip in alongside Nick’s two, eyelids fluttering as he strokes at himself. “You came in me,” says Harry, voice as wrecked as the rest of him, hoarse from making all those lovely noises as Nick fucked him. “There’s so much of it.” He swallows, slips his finger in deeper, opening himself up wide enough that it must hurt a bit. “Nick, I think I lied.”

Nick draws back, pushes himself up on an elbow and watches Harry dreamily fingering himself. “About what, love?”

“I said like, just this once. But I. I think I didn’t mean it. You could fuck me again like this. You could come in me again.” He slides a second finger into himself, too suddenly, and the noise it makes is obscene, Harry’s little whimper even more so. “Anytime.”

Nick pushes away the thought that there isn’t much of “anytime” left, that Harry’s leaving in a week and everything after that is uncertain. “Weren’t they going to put your pretty face on a condom, popstar?” Nick says, kissing the inside of Harry’s thigh. “What sort of spokesman are you?”

Harry’s laugh is startled, but he doesn’t stop working himself on his fingers. “We decided not to do it,” he says seriously. “Our audience is too young.”

“Ah,” says Nick, staring unabashedly at Harry’s arsehole, the way his fingers look pressing into it. “No conflict at all then.”

“None,” agrees Harry, turning it to a bit of a whine at the end. “How soon can you go again?”

“Greedy child,” sighs Nick, dragging himself up to kiss Harry’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” agrees Harry, with one half of a dimpled grin. Nick tries to roll his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He’s so bloody fond of Harry Styles, and he just keeps getting fonder. Their legs tangle together as he tugs Harry into a proper cuddle and settles in for a long night.


End file.
